When The Past Comes Calling
by Uncommon-Aura
Summary: Asher had always known that the life she was living was the not the one she was supposed to be. Her mother was trying to protect her, but she knew that she was meant to be a hunter. It was in her blood. And when presented with it, she was taking the chance to become one. (Self Insert/OC Insert. Non Canon Compliant. Part 1 of And The Ghost Carry On. Next Update: Unknown)
1. Chapter One

I decided to give uploading my stories here another try, just to see if there's any interest for them here. So, here we are with another one of my self insert longfics! I got into this series very very late, and still haven't watched past season 3, but it's come to mean a lot to me in the short time I've known it. I'm excited to share the ideas I have for it!

Per usual, if self insert stuff isn't your cup of tea, your browser has a back button for a reason. Note that I'm not interested in critique or criticism.

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**1\. There Are Very Few People Who Will Say Yes To Chasing Ghosts. I'm One Of Them.**

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_I know it breaks your heart, move to the city in a broke down car and._

_Four years, no calls, now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar and._

_I can't stop. No, I can't stop._

* * *

It was a day just like any other. How many stories have you heard that start with that?

I know, I know, it's a cliche start to a story, but how else am I supposed to do it? Because it really was a day just like any other. The day before (October 24) had been my eighteenth birthday, but I hadn't really done anything special for it. I'd spent it mostly like I was going to spend this day. Except we'd had cake.

My mom was off at work, and thus I'd commandeered the dining room table to set up my computer and drawing tablet. It's nice to sometimes not spend all day in my room, y'know? It was my house, too, after all.

I had put on my favorite stand-up comedy show from George Carlin ("What Am I Doing In New Jersey?!"), and got to sketching. Because yeah, I'm an artist. But not like. Painting pretty women and landscapes artist. I'd much prefer to draw my favorite video game characters over some lady sitting on a bench.

It was while I was sitting there, engrossed in my work, that a firm knock came from my front door, effectively breaking me from my concentration and entertainment. I turned to stare at the door with blatant confusion on my face.

I hadn't been expecting anyone. No deliveries, no friends. And my mom of course, had a key.

So who the hell was at my door? I swore, if it was some religious door knockers again...

I paused my show, and got up to peer out of the peep hole. At the door stood a tall blond man who was wearing a jacket over a plaid flannel. With a T-shirt underneath all that.

I didn't recognize him immediately, but even through the door I could feel that he was... Expecting something from me?

Oh, yeah, wait. Guess maybe I should explain that, huh?

So, I'm a psychic.

And no, not like some Romani palm reader who can tell if you're lying by kissing you with Whiskey on her lips.

I'm talking about a real, genuine psychic. Someone who can perceive parts of the world that normal people can't, someone who can sense and interact with the auras of the metaphysical.

I got it from my mom. Psychic powers are always genetic, like your hair and eyes. There's only one exception to that rule, and we'll get to it later, at some point.

Everyone's powers are different, and I'm not sure if what exactly your powers will be is hidden somewhere in your genetics. But it's definitely a genetic thing.

My powers are pretty simple. Or at least they started out simple, but that's a can of worms we'll get into later, as well. Let's stick with this basic train of thought, shall we?

I have the power to sense other people's emotions as if they were something tangible that can be felt, seen, heard, etc. etc. Everyone's emotions are different and unique; If I spend enough time around someone, I can learn to identify them just by their emotions.

It's generally called Empathy, which of course, normal people can have in some way too, as it's sort of an emotion in and of itself. But the psychic form is so much more powerful; It exceeds the limit of physicality and just simply _comprehending_ the emotions of others from physical and auditory tells. It's the act of perceiving someone else's feelings almost as if they are your own; As if they're a physical part of someone, and they're reaching out to touch you with them.

And sometimes it's a pain in the ass, because when you can _feel_ how pissed your mom is at your dad, you can't help but be affected by that.

But that's neither here nor there. The guy at my door, we've gotta get back to the guy at my door, don't we?

Just from looks alone, I didn't know him. But that didn't mean that his reason for being here wasn't important. So I opened the door and peered out. "Uh, hello...?"

Upon seeing me, this man looked me up and down. He was looking for something familiar, it seemed. When his eyes met mine, he found it. He recognized me somehow, something that reverberated through his... Nostalgia? Fondness for the past? Fondness for... Me in general?

How did he know me...?

He then gave a lopsided, fond, and slightly awkward grin as he seemed to solidify the fact that I was who he thought. "Yeah, hey, uh... Listen, I know this is kinda out of the blue, but..."

I stared at him as he trailed off. I was focusing hard on his emotions. Beyond nostalgia, there was excitement. And nervousness. About seeing me. Further implying that we knew each other.

There was... Familiarity. He thought he knew me well. And beyond that there was... Something else. Something that said he was scared. Of being rejected, it seemed...

And that was starting to creep up on him as he realized that I didn't immediately recognize him. He scratched the back of his head. "Uh, jeez, ah... You're Asher, right?"

I nodded slowly, and that was when I noticed the necklace hanging around his neck. I'd seen it before... My eyes darted back up to his face; He had light freckled skin, dirty blond hair, and green eyes.

Green eyes that were suddenly becoming familiar...

I'd known them my whole life, I realized. I gasped softly, and suddenly I knew him. All his emotions made sense now, and I knew him.

"Dean..." I breathed out, almost not comprehending that this was happening. It had been so long...

He smiled at me to confirm that, the action more fond and happy, now. His nervousness was ebbing now that he knew I recognized him. "Hey, Ashe,"

I laughed slightly, something that came out more like a rush of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. I'd kept in contact with Dean and his brother over the years, but I never thought I'd physically see them again.

Looking back on it, I suppose I was really stupid to think that anything could have kept me away from them.

"Wh-What are..." I started to say, but just couldn't seem to find the right words to ask why Dean Winchester was at my door after all this godforsaken time.

"Would you believe me if I said I just really missed you?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow and almost grinning at me.

I gave another breathy laugh. "I don't know..."

I could sense that there was a reason he was here. A purpose. Something he needed. And I certainly didn't know what...

Dean could tell that I was a bit flabbergasted here, so he dropped the flirty sarcasm that I hadn't exactly been expecting. "Well, can't blame me for tryin'. Can I uh... Would you mind if I...? Can we talk?"

I nodded. "Yeah..." Then I opened the door further and stepped away to give him room.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled as he stepped inside. Once I closed the door behind him, I turned around to watch him look around our living room. "This is uh. A nice place you've got,"

"Uh. Yeah," I replied, studying Dean as he turned in a slow circle to look at everything. He was much older than the last time I'd seen him of course, but... If I looked hard enough, I could still identify him as one of my best friends. His eyes were still the same, the curve of his lips and the slope of his nose. He was just. Older, now.

But it was his emotions that really drove it home for me. This was my best friend, right down to his very core. There were new layers, of course. He was older now, but he was still Dean. Still the same guy who'd saved me from a monster seven years ago.

Dean sighed as he turned back to me. "I'm beating around the bush, I know,"

"Why are you here, Dean...?" I asked softly, staring at him.

Dean grinned. "What? Don't wanna see me?"

"No, no," I sighed, almost offended that he'd thought to say that, though I could feel it was a joke. "Of course I'm happy to see you, I just. _This isn't a social call..._"

Dean sighed again and bit his lip. "I forgot, you're hard to lie to. Alright, alright..." he shuffled around a bit before finally deciding to explain. "Dad and I are hunting something in the area... There's been some mysterious deaths... Now, it could be nothing, but..."

"You want me to take a look...?" I asked slowly, sort of finishing his sentence. I could feel that's where this was going.

Dean nodded, as if he was going to say more and I'd just dumbed it down. "Yeah. See, there aren't many psychics around here. Not real ones. And, well..." he paused to scoff slightly. "We can't go to your mom..."

I sighed. "Yeah, smart idea... So you come to me,"

"Yep, pretty much," Dean replied.

I stared at him for just a moment. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. Or do. "Dean, I..."

"I understand if the answer is no. You've been outta this life for a long ass time... I get it if you don't wanna come back, even for one second," Dean interjected, as if he thought I didn't like what he'd just asked of me.

The truth was quite the opposite. I couldn't believe that the opportunity to come back to the hunting life was right here in front of me, even if it was only fleeting. My mom had taken me from it and kept me far away, and now here it was again.

Here Dean was, again.

But I was still conflicted, despite this. I wanted to help. I wanted to help more than anything. But if my mom found out that I'd been with the Winchesters... That I'd been on a case...

She'd have my head.

But... This was Dean... And John was involved, too. They were my family once, and if you asked me, that hadn't changed. I could feel that Dean didn't really think it had, either, even if we were both different now.

That helped me make up my mind. To hell with the consequences.

I shook my head and laughed. "You're crazy if you think I'm not gonna help you. I never wanted to leave..."

Dean smiled, lopsided but warm. "So that's a yes?"

"Absolutely," I replied. "Lemme get my shoes,"

And so off I went to my bedroom, to retrieve and pull on my shoes. I then returned to the living room to start unplugging my computer and things to take them back to my room.

"So uh..." Dean drawled as I closed my computer lid. "You're uh- How old are you now? Yesterday was your birthday, don't think I forgot,"

I laughed quietly. "Yeah, I'm eighteen now. And you coulda called, y'know. Sam did,"

"Yeah, I know," Dean hummed, but he knew I was semi-joking. Mostly bc I was grinning at him, but also because he _knew me_. "Got caught up with this thing, you know how it is,"

"Yeah, I know, believe me," I laughed as I hauled my laptop off to my room. "You're here now, so I'll take it,"

Dean scoffed. "Y'know, you haven't given me a hug yet," he yelled down the hall.

Oh. Well shit, I hadn't. I had to rectify this, I suddenly realized.

So I put my computer away, shoved my keys, wallet and phone into my pockets, then strode back into the living room, right into Dean's arms.

He crushed me to his chest, like it was the first time he ever had. And technically, it sort of almost was. It was the first time we'd physically seen each other in seven years, after all.

And somehow, it didn't feel like it had been all that long. Not right at that moment, because it felt like we were picking up right where we'd left off. Dean was familiar, oh so familiar, and it was so good to have him near again. Only one thing could make this better...

"Have _you_ heard from Sam?" I asked as I pulled away to look up at Dean. Damn, had he gotten tall...

"Nah, not really," Dean replied. "Kinda doesn't want me and dad bothering him, but y'know. He's Sam, that's how it goes with him,"

I sighed softly, but it was through a smile. Yeah, I knew how Sam was. Sometimes he didn't see eye to eye with his brother. Or father. I knew that he'd gone off to college when he turned eighteen. He'd emailed me about it. In fact, I talked to Sam quite a bit more than Dean, since Sam wasn't backpacking across the country fighting monsters.

But I wasn't going to hold that against Dean, of course.

"Cut your brother some slack," I said. "Not everyone wants to hunt evil things,"

Dean hummed lowly, and I could feel that there was something more there. Something that wasn't about the job. I looked up at Dean, into his eyes. He held my gaze for a moment, before breaking it, knowing just what I was doing. "C'mon, Ashe, not now. We've got a job to do, yeah?"

I nodded resignedly; I'd let it go for now. "_Yeah_. Let's go,"

And so, with me in the lead, we headed out of my house. I locked the door behind us, then turned to Dean. "So. I take it we're walking?"

"Mhm," Dean hummed. "Just a few blocks down, dad's waiting at a little diner, doin' his research and stuff,"

"Got it," I replied, and let Dean take the lead to get us there. It was my neighborhood, but I can't navigate for shit.

"_So uh_," Dean drawled as we started walking. "That thingy you had connected to your laptop, that's for drawing, right? You still do that?"

I laughed softly. "Like anything in the world could make me stop,"

Dean laughed, too. "Yeah, y'know, that sounds about right. Damn, man, you and Sammy, ya'll used to... Make the craziest stuff,"

"Yeah," I laughed, a few things coming to call in my mind. "_Yeah_, we kinda really did. I still have a lot of it, too,"

"_No_," Dean drawled in fake disbelief, with a hint of teasing behind it. "_Really?_ Oh man, you gotta let me take a look at it,"

I scoffed. "Dean, even I don't like looking at that stuff. It's cringy,"

"_Yeah_," Dean purred. "That's why you gotta let me see it,"

"_Pfft_. Yeah, sure," I scoffed.

"Oh, c'mon," drawled Dean, clearly teasing me. "I was around when a lotta that stuff came to be. You're saying I ain't allowed to see it now?"

I glanced over at him. "No, because I know you're going to tease me. And Sam, if you find anything of his,"

Dean made a face that said, 'Yeah, you know, I would, maybe.' "Yeah, well, I'm the oldest, it's my job description to make fun of you guys,"

I slapped his arm. "Bullshit,"

"No, really," Dean said. "There's rules for this stuff, didn't you know that?"

I gave him a look that made him laugh and bump me with his shoulder. "Alright, alright. But you gotta lemme take a look. Nostalgia, y'know?"

I sighed. "I'll think about it. You know my mom would kill me if she knew I was with you right now, right?"

"Does she hate us that much?" Dean asked, looking down at me.

"She hates what you do," I replied. "She hates John's work ethic, too. And she hates that you wanted to be just like him,"

"Just like him? Oh now _that's_ bullshit, honey," was Dean's response. "I'm me, end of story,"

"_I_ know that," I said. "But my mom sees it differently,"

"Yeah, _well_," Dean hummed. "Your mom always was short-sighted, even with all her psychic stuff..."

I made a small noise. "Yeah... She's... Not the easiest person to know,"

"But she's your mom," said Dean. "And you love her, right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Despite all her shit, yeah,"

Dean smiled. Me and my mom were a bit like him and John, which was something I could guess he was thinking, too, judging by the way he _understood_ how I felt about my mom.

We then crossed into the parking lot of the diner where John was apparently waiting for us. The lot wasn't as crowded as it could have been, and I easily picked out the familiar Chevy Impala parked up near the doors.

"_Oh my god_, you guys still have it..." I breathed in wonder and almost disbelief.

Dean grinned. "Sure do. We keep her looking nice,"

I smiled so hard it hurt. Suddenly, it was really hitting me; I was with one of my childhood friends again. I was with Dean. And we were working a case. This was happening. My old life was right there where I could touch it again.

And it felt so damn good, to have it again.

We stepped inside the diner, and located John sitting far in the back, his familiar journal spread before him, along with a laptop and various other papers.

"Heya, John," I said as we approached. He was older than I remembered, a little more gray, but that was definitely still John.

He looked up at us, and smiled. "So Dean convinced you to come join us, huh? Glad to have you, Asher,"

I smiled. "Didn't need much convincing. I'd rob a bank if you guys asked me,"

John chuckled and nodded, knowing that I probably wouldn't _actually_ rob a bank if they asked. "Good to know,"

Dean and I slid into the booth across from John, and I scanned my eyes over the papers before him. "So what are we looking at?"

"Unusual homicides," John mumbled. "Various people working the night shift at a local museum keep turning up..."

"Dead?" I questioned almost rhetorically, keeping my voice quiet. John nodded to affirm this. So I then asked, "How many?"

"Four," John replied.

I nodded and thought about it. "And they all worked the night shift at this museum? You think the museum is part of this?"

"I do," John answered with a nod. "Considering they were all found mutilated in the museum come morning, yeah,"

"Well damn..." I breathed. I'd almost forgotten. A few things, actually; How gruesome this job was, and how blunt John could be.

I sighed and started mulling everything over in my head. I'd never properly learned how to work a case, but I'd watched a good few cop shows. Surely that would be of some use, right?

"Listen, I understand if this information makes you not wanna do this," John suddenly said, while I was mulling over the case in my head.

"What?" I asked, actually a little baffled by that statement. "No, no, that's not. Don't be silly. I'm just. Trying to figure out how one is meant to work a case, is all. Never really got to do it proper, y'know?"

Sure, yeah, I was scared. And no one wants to be anywhere near a murder. But there was no way I could say no to this. More people would die if I didn't help, and this was my family who were involved.

I didn't care if it had been seven years. Dean and John were still family to me. And judging by their feelings for me, it was mutual.

So I wasn't backing down.

John hummed and nodded to my statement. "You sure? We won't blame you if you change your mind,"

"John," I admonished. "I'm in, or I wouldn't be here. So what do we do about this?"

"I'm not sure," said John, accepting that I wanted to do this without further protest. "First, we have to find out what this thing is. I'm thinking a ghost, poltergeist maybe. Do you think you could sense one, if it's there?"

I nodded. "Should be able to, yeah,"

"Alright," said John, beginning to put away his papers. "Then we've got a plan,"

"Uh, hey, hey, _wait_-" Dean interjected as John started to get up. When John looked over at him, Dean gave him an 'Are you forgetting something?' look and said, "_Food?_ Y'know we're kinda..." he motioned around to solidify the fact that we were indeed in a _diner_.

John sighed, a little exasperated with Dean, but sat back down. "Fine, fine,"

"You want anything?" Dean then asked me. "I'll pay,"

Normally, I'm rather adverse to people buying things for me. But this was Dean, and Dean had always had special privileges. "Sure. They've got kick ass onion rings here,"

Dean laughed. "Hell yeah,"

And then he began trying to flag down a waitress. I slapped his arm gently. "Wait for them to come over here, don't do that,"

Dean gave a guilty smile, but leaned back in his seat. "Alright, alright..." Then his smile turned teasing. "Y'know, Sam always got on my ass about that, too,"

"Yeah?" I asked. "Well, I knew there was a reason I like him,"

"_Hey_," said Dean, putting fake offense behind one word. "C'mon, I thought we had something special,"

I scoffed and bumped his shoulder. "Of course we do,"

Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It felt like the natural, right thing to do. Like we hadn't been away from each other for seven years. Like we'd just gone away for the weekend and were back to business as usual.

It was a bit strange, but it was good. It felt good to have Dean here again, and in some ways, it was good to see John again, too.

Speaking of John, he then asked me a question. "So how've you been? How's your mom?"

"She's ah... Good," I replied. "I'm good. Life has kinda just. Y'know. Happened," I paused to bark out a short but quiet laugh. "It would take forever to tell you everything. I imagine life's continued happening for you guys, too,"

John almost laughed at me. He knew I wasn't going to be the kid he'd last seen seven years prior, but he was intrigued to see just what kind of adult I was, now. "Yeah... Yeah it has. I'm glad things worked out for you, though. For your mom,"

"Yeah. She's pretty happy here," I replied. Me, on the other hand? Well. I didn't hate it. But it hadn't ever felt quite right.

But right then? Right then felt right. And I knew why.

John nodded. "Good, good,"

And then we lapsed into a bit of silence. John had always been an awkward person, I had remembered that. And I didn't really hold it against him anymore. I myself was now very awkward.

"So," Dean drawled after a few seconds. "You got a boyfriend?"

"No," I laughed, not having expected that question.

"_Girlfriend?_" Dean then questioned. "I won't judge,"

"No," I said again. "Never have, either,"

"Well damn, Ashe, what rock are you livin' under?" Dean asked, tease lacing his voice. "What kinda rock are _other people_ livin' under?"

I laughed at him, and also at myself. I didn't think I was attractive at all, all things considered. But Dean - And I could sense this to be true - Thought I was. And he just couldn't believe that no one had ever tried to date me.

I got the feeling that he'd done _a lot_ of dating.

"I'm just. _Ah_... _I dunno_," I hummed awkwardly. Yeah, like I said, I don't hold it over John anymore for this very reason. "Just never felt my speed, y'know?"

"Suit yourself, I guess," said Dean. There was a nagging desire in him to say more, but he didn't. And I didn't go looking deeper for whatever he was feeling, though I hardly made the decision actively.

Because that's kinda how my powers work sometimes. I have to actively pay attention to catch certain emotions. The ones that are 'mumbled' rather than 'said' or 'shouted'. Certain people are easier to read than others of course. And I can ignore things if I try hard enough.

That was when the waitress finally came over to our table. "I see your party's gained a few new people. Would you like menus?"

"Sure would," Dean replied, giving the lady a sweet smile.

_Yeah_, he'd done a lot of dating in his life. I wasn't sure why, but that bothered me just a bit. I didn't pause to mull over that, however. Because it was a really dumb thing to be bothered by. So I stamped it down into the pit of my brain, and left it there. It was dumb.

The waitress smiled and was off to grab menus. A few moments later and she'd returned with them. "Here you are. Would you like to order your drinks now?"

"Yeah..." Dean drawled, looking over the drinks section of the menu. "I'll take uh..." he made a few popping noises with his mouth as he thought about it.

"I'll take a beer," John interjected.

"Okay," the waitress nodded and wrote this down.

Dean mulled over the menu for another second to two, before making his decision. "I'll take this uh. Mojito what's-it-call-it," He pointed to it on the menu.

"Alrighty. And for you, miss?" said the waitress as she wrote that down, too.

"Well," I laughed. "While my friends get drunk, I'll take cherry limeade, no ice,"

The waitress nodded and wrote it down. "Would you like a moment to look over the menu?"

"Yeah, maybe," hummed Dean. "She says you guys have onion rings?"

"We do, they're an appetizer. Would you like to order some?"

"Yup, think we will," Dean replied. Then, after a pause, "Make it two,"

That was written down with a friendly, "Alrighty," from the waitress. Then, "Would you like more time to decide what else?"

"Yeah..." Dean drawled. "Never been here before, y'know?"

"That's totally fine," said the waitress. "Take your time, I'll get those onion rings in for you,"

"Thanks," said Dean as the waitress headed off to wherever the kitchen was. He then turned his attention to the menu. "Sooo... What's good here?"

I shrugged and picked up my own menu. "Everything, pretty much. I don't come here often, but everything I've tried is good,"

Dean hummed, but said nothing.

"Dean, we don't wanna be here forever," said John. "Just pick something,"

Dean gave his dad a mock glare from over the menu. "Oh, c'mon. Y'know this is one of the best parts; Trying local cuisine. That place in Atlanta remains a favorite, y'know,"

John sighed, and looked to me as if I could help him. I laughed, instead. Yeah, it really did seem like we were picking up right where we'd left off.

It was like trying to finish a puzzle after covering it up for a while. Some of the pieces had moved, some had changed entirely, and we'd sort of forgotten what exactly we were doing with it. But it all still fit together into one recognizable thing, somehow. And once we got back into it, we remembered like it was yesterday.

And there weren't words for how damn happy it made me.

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The lyric at the beginning is from Closer, by The Chainsmokers and Halsey!


	2. Chapter Two

_**2\. So I Was Nervous During My First Job. Who Wouldn't Be, When You're Hunting Monsters?**_

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_You look as good as the day I met you, I forget just why I left you. _

_I was insane._

_Stay, and play that Blink182 song that we beat to death in Tucson._

_Okay?_

* * *

"So do we have any idea why this ghost-" I stopped myself there to amend that. "-_Er_ \- _Potential_ _ghost_ \- Is killing people in this museum?"

"Not exactly," replied Dean. "There hasn't really been any pattern that we could find among the victims, anyways,"

I bit my lip and hummed. "It's just... Killing random people, then?"

John nodded and interjected. "Yes. Which I know, seems a bit strange. Ghosts generally have a purpose,"

"Which is why you're not completely sure if it's a ghost..." I hummed, finishing that thought because I felt it ought to be said. "Have you _uh_... Have you tried an EMF meter?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "_Tried_ being the key word. The museum security got a bit uppity about 'unknown technology' around some of the exhibits,"

I hummed through a sigh. "So you decided to come to me; The walking EMF meter..."

"Well you're good for a lot more than just that," said Dean. "And besides. How I could be here, knowing that you live here, and not stop by?"

I laughed, a sound that tried to come out as a scoff. "You coulda come visited a lot sooner, y'know?"

"_Yeah, I know_," Dean drawled. "But you weren't eighteen yet. _Soo_ legally, your mom coulda... I dunno, prosecuted me if she got pissed enough at me bein' around. But now you're an adult. You can chill with whoever you want,"

I laughed again, to hide the fact that his words hit me a bit differently than he meant them to.. "Yeah... _Yeah_, I guess you're right,"

Dean smirked, not picking up on the thoughts that had just crossed my head. Those thoughts being that nothing was stopping me, now. Nothing was stopping me anymore.

I'd never thought about it before, that I could _go back_ after I turned eighteen. I hadn't physically seen Sam or Dean in _seven damned years_, after all. And they rarely talked cases with me.

And then Sam had gone off to college, and I didn't speak as much with Dean. And even though I still considered them my best friends in the whole world, I had never once thought about the fact that _I could go back_.

I could go back to the hunting life now, if I wanted. I didn't have to stay away anymore. I could be a part of my family's life again, if they'd have me.

It was a thought that sent my mind reeling for a moment. And so I quickly shut it down and stopped thinking about it. We had this one case to focus on, right now. I couldn't get distracted by sudden dreams of a perfect future.

We just didn't have time for that.

"Alright, so," I said, barely having outwardly missed a beat. "We've gotta go to the museum, and see if there is indeed a ghost there, yeah?"

John nodded. "That seems to be the next step, yeah,"

"Alright," I said. "Then let's do it. Sounds easy enough,"

Dean laughed. "Don't get so cocky,"

I scoffed at him. "Please, I was born psychic. I think I can sniff out a ghost, no problemo,"

"Now where did this ego come from, hm?" Dean teased, tossing an arm around my shoulders as we started following John out the door.

I snickered. "Maybe from you telling me I ought to have more confidence?"

"Oh, I see," Dean drawled playfully. "Blaming me, huh? Alright, sure, I see how you are,"

I laughed and shoved him gently. "You are such a pain in the ass, do you know that?"

"What? _Me?_" Dean asked, opening the back door of the Impala for me. "A pain in the ass? Now who do you take me for? _Of course_ I know that. But you love me, right? Even after all this time?"

I sighed and shoved his shoulder again as I got into the car. "Of course I do,"

Dean smirked and closed the door for me, then got into the front seat. "Hey," I said plaintively, leaning over the seat. "Why do you get shotgun?"

"Because my dad owns the car," Dean replied with a smile.

"Hm. Fair enough," I replied, leaning back and buckling up as John pulled out of the motel parking lot. We'd headed there after leaving the diner, so we could come up with a proper plan of attack.

"If that was an attempt at being a pain in the ass to get me back, it was a real sorry attempt, Ashe," Dean said, almost laughing.

"I know," I responded. "That wasn't really my intention, though. It was more like... I dunno, teasing. Being a smartass,"

Dean laughed and looked back at me. "And since when have- Actually no, wait. You've always been a smartass,"

"I like to think she's the one who taught you," said John.

I chuckled. "Please, John. Dean is a new level of smartassery. The likes of which I could never _hope_ to achieve,"

John hummed and looked over at Dean. Then he nodded and turned back to the road. "Y'know what, yeah. I think you're right,"

"_Hey_," Dean protested. "That better be a good thing,"

"Not sure," replied John.

I laughed. John wasn't good at expressing the fact that he was joking; It was coming out a bit flat. But I could _feel_ it. I knew he was trying to lighten up here. And it was good to see John trying to do that. After all, I knew what kinds of horrors the man had been through.

Dean pouted up in the front seat.

"Hey, c'mon," I said. "We still love you,"

Dean leaned back to look at me, considering if he should accept that placation. Then he smiled. "Alright, yeah, I'll take that. Love you, too,"

I chuckled again, thinking about how easy this all was. It had been so long, but yet here we were. Joking and saying I love you like it hadn't been forever since we'd seen each other. Even if all we did was call or email every now and then, I still felt like I knew Dean. Inside and out.

It made me wonder what it would be like to see Sam, again. That was the one thing that would make the whole thing better; Sam being there. For all the connection Dean and I had, Sam and I had always had something more. Something intimate.

And I rather missed it.

Dean leaned forwards to turn on the radio. The volume was low at first, but I instantly recognized the familiar tune of 'Livin' On A Prayer' by Bon Jovi. Dean smirked, started bobbing his head, and turned up the music.

I couldn't help but follow suit; It was one of my favorite songs, after all.

It wasn't long before Dean started singing along, sort of getting really into the whole thing. And I couldn't help but join in on that, too.

_"She says we gotta hold on, to what we've got. It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We got each other and that a lot. For love, we'll give it a shot~" _

_"Woah, we're half way there. Woah~ Livin' on a prayer~ Just take my hand and we'll make it I swear. Woah~ Livin' on a prayer~"_

John snickered and shook his head at us. But I could feel that he was amused by us. Was glad to see Dean enjoying himself. Was glad to see that Dean and I were still the best friends he remembered us being; There was a lot of nostalgia in him right then.

He was probably remembering all the times I'd given an impromptu concert in the living room, and Dean and Sam had eventually joined in. That was certainly what I was thinking about.

So, while John drove us to the museum, Dean and I jammed to whatever was on the radio. Occasionally, we'd burst out laughing at ourselves.

It was the most fun I'd had in what felt like forever. I'd never realized how much I'd missed Dean and his antics.

When we arrived at the museum, John turned down the radio. Thankfully, in the middle of a song we didn't care about. "Alright. Everyone keep their eyes peeled,"

"Got it," I said, opening the car door and stepping out. "Beware anything that reeks of ghost, yeah?"

"Yeah," said John.

Dean gravitated to my side as we headed into the museum, throwing an arm around my shoulders. John trailed behind us, clearly having decided that we ought to split up.

Dean dished out cash to get us into the fancy parts of the museum, and off we went. And the minute I set foot in the building, I could feel it.

This place was _definitely_ haunted.

I took a sharp but quiet breath in. In my daily life, I didn't encounter much supernatural stuff, somehow. And suddenly the reality of this was hitting me. I was hunting a killer creature.

And I'd just stepped into it's home turf.

_Shit. _

I pressed myself to Dean's side, out of some kind of instinct. "Oh yeah..." I breathed out. "There's something here..."

"You can tell already?" Dean whispered back as we meandered through the museum exhibits, trying to look normal and not suspicious.

I nodded. "It's obviously been all over this place, I can... I can feel the echoes of it's presence,"

"You can't tell where exactly it is, right now?" asked Dean, his face not betraying anything. I felt like mine was.

"No," I replied. "But it's..." I sighed, trying to remember how this worked. It had been so long... "Ghosts are held here either by their own remains or an item tied to their life and/or death, right?"

"Mhm," Dean hummed in affirmation.

"So... _Okay_..." I sighed. I was nervous, now that this was actually happening. I'd forgotten just how nerve-wrecking this job could be. What it felt like to hunt down death, stare it down, and then thwart it.

And really, I'd never known the whole truth of it to begin with... I'd only ever gone on one true case. And that hadn't ended well for anyone involved.

Dean gave me a little squeeze, as if he was the one who could sense how nervous I was. "Hey, hey... Breathe, honey. You sure you can do this?"

"Yeah..." I replied, tense but breathy. I wasn't one-hundred percent sure about hunting down something that might want me dead, but I was sure that I wanted to help. Wanted to help save people. I always had wanted to do that. "It uh... We need to find out if there's any burial grounds here... What this building used to be, yeah? See if anyone died here..."

Dean nodded. "Right on the mark. Sure you've never done this before?"

"It's just logic, Dean," I replied, sort of missing that he was trying to tease me to make me feel better. I was too nervous to properly assess his emotions. "I know how ghosts work,"

"I know," said Dean, bumping his hip against me. "But c'mon, breathe. You're alright,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sighed. "I just. _It's been a long time_..."

Dean hummed. "Forgot just what this is like?"

"_Yeah_... Like I ever knew to begin with..." I mumbled. Then, "But I'm not regretting this..."

"You sure?" Dean asked.

I nodded and bumped myself against his side, this time. "Yeah. I'm nervous by nature, Dean... Just kinda who I've become... But I want to do this. Always have,"

Dean looked down at me; I could feel his eyes on me. Then he gave me another squeeze, but said nothing.

We continued moseying through the museum, searching for any stronger sign of this ghost. Anything more than just it's 'scent'.

"If it's haunting an item, can you tell?" Dean asked.

"Maybe, I think so," I replied. "Depends on how attached to it the thing is. If it's attached to both it's remains and an item, the item isn't gonna be as strongly haunted. At least. I think that's how it worked..."

Dean nodded. "How close would you have to be?"

"I dunno..." I sighed. "I've never... I've never really got to do this... Had to use my powers like this, y'know? I've never hunted out this stuff..."

"I know," Dean hummed. "We aren't expecting any kinda miracle. Just do what you can,"

I nodded slowly, and kept looking around the museum. We walked through all the exhibits, pretending to be interested in them.

And if it weren't for the ghost we were tracking, I actually _would_ have been interested in a lot of the stuff there. But the ghost sort of had a lot of my attention.

"Anything?" Dean asked after a while.

"No..." I replied solemnly. "I mean. There's the 'footprints' _but_... I can't find a source..."

Dean hummed. "Curious..."

I sighed. "We've been all over this place... I must be missing something..."

"No," Dean said firmly. "_We're_ missing something,"

I looked up at him, feeling a bit pitiful. But I tried to smile at his attempt to console me.

"Maybe it's not you," Dean continued. "Maybe this ghost is something special,"

I hummed. "Maybe... But it... It's like it's gone underground, so to speak..."

There was a beat of silence from Dean, before, "_You're a genius_,"

I looked up at him in confusion. "_What?_"

"_Underground_," Dean said, as if it was the solution to all our problems. "What if the ghost is underground? In the basement? Or the storage rooms?"

I gaped for a moment in bafflement. "I can't believe we didn't think of that sooner..."

Dean grinned, slapped me on the back, and then tugged me off to go find John. We found him 'admiring' some random painting.

"Anything?" he asked as we nonchalantly stepped up beside him, not looking at us as we pretended to also look at the painting.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Ghost is here, but she can't pinpoint it. We think maybe it's underground. In the basement or a storage room,"

John nodded minutely. "Could be..."

"How are we gonna check, though?" I asked. "We can't just... Walk back there..."

John put a folded finger to his lips like a classic detective pondering the facts. "I might have an idea..."

"And what's that?" I asked.

John didn't immediately say anything. Just kept pretending to admire the painting. Then he turned and walked off, motioning discreetly for us to follow him.

"John," I hissed as Dean and I turned to follow. "What's your idea?"

"I'll tell you when we get back to the motel," said John.

I sighed, but didn't fight that. Yeah, maybe in the middle of the crowded museum wasn't the best place to talk about this stuff.

So we headed out of the museum and got back into the car. We drove back to the motel in silence; Something I hate. When we got back, John started rifling through the trunk, pulling out various items and putting them into a duffel bag.

"John..." I admonished. "_C'mon_, what's this huge plan of yours?"

"Just give me a minute," said John.

I sighed, but continued to wait and watch as John gathered things from the trunk. Then he lead us back into the motel, and started going over his notes. "Okay. I think what we do is simple. We go in through the back, get around the night shift before they really get going, and see what we can't find,"

My brain blanked for a moment. Did he just-

"_Wait_. Lemme get this straight," I said, staring John down. "You're going to break into the museum?"

"No, _we_ are," John responded to my query. "It's the easiest way to get back there. We don't have time to try getting hired,"

I sighed heavily. "I don't remember this being part of the job..."

Dean hummed and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, well. Sometimes it is. For us, anyways,"

I sighed again, this time a bit heavier. "God, I wish I could think of something else... I wish this didn't make sense..."

"You stop feeling bad about it after a while," said Dean, as if that would help things right then.

Again, I sighed. "Alright... _Alright_... How do we do this?"

"Just follow my lead," said John. "Easy,"

I gave John a look. Of course he wasn't going to tell us how he planned to do this. He just wanted us to blindly follow. That was one of the reasons why my mom had never liked him very much. He never let anyone into his head, kept himself too locked up. And always thought he was superior to everyone else.

And I was starting to agree with my mom, just the smallest bit.

Dean could see what the look on my face meant, so he gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, it's gonna be fine. We know what we're doin'. You trust me, right?"

I looked over at Dean, and had to let some of my frustration melt off my face. It was hard to truly be mad at Dean. "Yeah..."

"Then trust me when I say that this'll all be fine," said Dean. "Just let us lead,"

I sighed yet again. "Okay..."

"We'll head out at eleven," said John, entirely ignoring the exchange that had just taken place.

I nodded and sat down on the edge of one of the motel beds, idly kicking my feet. "Right. So what do we do until then?"

"How 'bout lunch?" Dean suggested. "Know any other good places around here?"

"_Actually_..." I hummed. "There's this one place down on thirty-fourth that I really like. Sandwich place,"

Dean grinned. "Then why are we just standing here?"

John fished into his pocket then, as if on que, and then tossed Dean the Impala keys. Dean looked a little shocked as he caught them with a bit of fumbling. "Woah, wait, seriously? I'm driving?"

"You're twenty-four now, yes you can drive," John replied. "I'm staying here, I'm going to look into possible haunting sources in the museum,"

"Deaths and items?" I asked.

John hummed an affirmative.

Dean grinned at me and held up the keys, grinning wide. "Let's go, then,"

I laughed slightly at his enthusiasm, and followed him out the door and to the car.

"_Heyyy_," Dean purred as we approached the car. "You get shotgun this time,"

I snickered. "_Nice_,"

We climbed into the car, Dean got her going, and we headed off towards thirty-fourth street and twentieth, upon my directions. At first, there was silence; It was a rather short drive and we hadn't turned on the radio.

But that was okay, because there was something I wanted to say now that John wasn't around.

"Y'know, it's kind of annoying..." I sighed, only glancing at Dean briefly.

"What is?" Dean questioned, looking at me sidelong to keep his gaze mostly on the road.

"John," I replied. "He just. Expected us to follow along, no questions asked,"

Dean sighed heavily, almost a light groan. "Oh, c'mon, not you, too..."

Now I was confused, and I let it show as I looked over at Dean. "What do you mean?"

Dean sighed again. "Sam was always going on about that, too. Always getting into it with dad. That's kinda why he left. I don't wanna see you picking the same fight, Ashe,"

I huffed a small sigh. "You mean it doesn't bother you?"

"Clearly not as much as it bothers you and Sam," said Dean.

I sighed proper this time. "Maybe it's just me and Sam... We always were a lot alike,"

Dean scoffed breathily; It was part laugh. "_Yeah_, yeah you were. You and Sam were like. I dunno. Siamese twins? Nah, you were different enough that that one doesn't work... Two peas in a pod? Yeah, _yeah_, that works,"

I laughed a little bit. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Sam and I were like apple and cinnamon. Actually, I think that's gross, _so_..."

Dean chuckled. "What's wrong with you? Apple and cinnamon is great,"

"_Blech_," I stuck my tongue out. "No, it's gross,"

Dean clicked his tongue and scoffed at me. "Man, you're just as broken as Sam. Which really shouldn't surprise me. Hey, do you like licorice?"

"No," I replied. "That's literally the worst thing ever,"

"Oh, c'mon!" Dean yelled with mock frustration. Apparently Sam didn't like licorice, either... "What is wrong with you?"

I laughed, feeling how he really wasn't truly bothered by this. He just wanted to give me a hard time. And distract me from thinking about how John annoyed me. I decided to let him do that. "I'm not broken, and neither is Sammy. We're just different,"

Dean shook his head. "_Man_, what am I gonna do with you guys?"

"You're going to love us. Because we're your family," I replied.

I felt something in Dean swell like a balloon when I referred to myself as his family still. He was glad to know that I still considered myself that. But open emotions weren't Dean's thing. Never had been. So he went with sarcasm. "Yeah, yeah, _sure_,"

I rolled my eyes and directed Dean into the parking lot of the restaurant I'd told him to go to. He pulled into a parking space, and just as we were about to get out of the car, my phone rang.

I had a really bad idea of who it might be...

I scrambled to pull my phone out of my pocket, while Dean waited with the door half open. I retrieved my phone, looked at the caller ID, and swore aloud. "_Shit_,"

It was my mom.

* * *

The lyric at the beginning of this chapter is _also_ from Closer by the Chainsmokers and Halsey!


	3. Chapter Three

So, I've had this chapter mostly done for a while, it just needed a little sprucing up. So I finally sat down to clean it up and make it presentable!

* * *

**3\. Killer Museum Ghosts Weren't Something I Expected To Ever Encounter. But Here We Are.**

* * *

_Just a small town girl. Living in a lonely world._

_She took the midnight train, going anywhere._

_Just a city boy. Born and raised in South Detroit._

_He took the midnight train, going anywhere._

* * *

"Shit, fuck," I swore under my breath as I stared at my phone, my ringtone blaring, and my mom's name on the caller ID.

What was I supposed to do?

"Is that your mom?" Dean asked, pulling the door closed again.

"_Yeah_," I hissed through my teeth.

Dean sighed. "You gotta answer it,"

Fuck, I wished he wasn't right...

"I know, I know," I muttered. "Just. _Shush_,"

Dean made the motion of zipping his lips as I steeled my nerves and answered my phone, trying to not sound suspicious. "Yeah? What?"

"Where are you?" my mom demanded over the other line.

"At the park," I replied. "Y'know, with Markus? I texted you," Okay, now maybe that was a lie.

"I didn't get a text," mom responded.

I sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "Well, it's not my fault if the text didn't send,"

Now it was my mom's turn to sigh. "Alright, whatever. When are you coming home?"

"Not sure," I responded. "Might stay the night, he kinda wants to take me to this thing tomorrow morning,"

"What thing?" mom asked.

"I dunno, it's like a concert thing at this restaurant," I said, making this entire thing up as I went along. Dean was sort of impressed with my ability to do that. But I didn't have time to be proud about that. I had to keep bullshitting my mom. "I'll ask him, he's in the bathroom right now,"

"Alright," mom sighed. "Just keep me posted,"

"Will do," was my response. "See ya,"

And then I hung up, and let out the breath I'd sort of been holding. "_Ah, jeez..._"

Dean gave me a very small round of applause. "_Impressive_, _impressive_. I could never bullshit my dad like that. You do that often?"

"I don't lie about who I'm with very often, but yes," I sighed. "Sometimes, bullshitting is necessary when my mom is involved,"

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," said Dean. Then he pat my shoulder. "Now, c'mon, let's go, I'm starving,"

I scoffed a laugh at him, but got out of the car and followed him inside. We took a seat, and a waitress was with us shortly. Dean, knowing that we had a job coming up, only ordered a beer. Meanwhile, I - Unable to _drink_ \- ordered a Pepsi with no ice.

We looked over the menus for a while, making small talk that mostly consisted of teasing. We ordered our foods of choice, and then sat and waited.

It was during this time that a _thought_ seemed to cross Dean's mind. Something that had him coming back to reality in a sad way. Something he didn't want to realize.

Something about _me_...

"Dean...?" I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Are you okay?"

He laughed a bit nervously, trying to smile for me. "What? Yeah, _yeah_, I'm good,"

I gave him a look, one that I knew he was used to getting from me. The look that he'd once described as, 'A deer soulfully looking into your, well, soul,'. "Dean..."

He sighed. "_Man_, I really did forget that it's hard to lie to you. Listen, it's nothing. I'm just thinkin' about things,"

"Like what?" I asked. "You don't have to hide from me, y'know,"

Dean sighed once again. "Yeah, I know. But uh. Not something you gotta worry about, okay? I'll tell you later,"

I continued giving him _the look_ for a moment, before accepting that, and nodding. "Okay..."

He nodded back to me; He was thankful that I'd left it alone. These were feelings he wanted to keep guarded for the time being. So I tuned them out.

Our food arrived soon, and Dean returned to making teasing small talk with me. Afterwards, we paid, and headed back for the car.

When we got back to the motel, it was half past six. We had a lot of time to kill. John was sitting where we'd left him when we entered the room.

"_Soo_," Dean drawled, setting the Impala keys where John could see them. "Find anything?"

"Sort of," John replied. "There's a few items in the back rooms that just might be what we're looking for. As for deaths, I haven't found any of those, aside from the ones that brought us here,"

I hummed softly, but it was mostly to myself. "And how'd you find out what they've got in back?"

"I've got my resources," said John.

I gave him an unimpressed look. But for Dean's sake, I didn't try to argue with that. But damn was it annoying. This was an important life or death thing, and I barely knew what I was doing. Yet John didn't want to let me into his process so that I could learn. He was leaving me in the dark and I didn't think that was in our best interest...

But now wasn't the time to be picking fights. We had a job to do, and at the very least, I trusted Dean to tell me the things I absolutely needed to know. "So," I sighed, deciding to direct the conversation elsewhere. "We've still got some time to kill. What do we do?"

"Whatever you want," said John.

I sighed. _That_ was descriptive.

"C'mon," said Dean. "We'll find something to do, always do,"

I snickered. "Yeah, sure,"

* * *

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" I asked as we pulled up to the museum.

It was going on midnight. Dean and I had killed time by watching TV, playing cards, and guzzling energy drinks as the day wore on.

And now it was time to break into the museum and find this cursed object. Provided that it really was a cursed object and John hadn't missed any deaths. I mentally crossed my fingers on that one.

It wasn't that I was doubting John, it was that I whole heartedly expected _something_ to go wrong here. This just didn't seem like something that was going to go off without a hitch.

"Because you're not used to it yet," said Dean.

"And you are?" I countered, leaning over the front seat.

Dean hummed to say yes. "Already said, y'know, sometimes you gotta,"

I sighed. "And apparently you've been doing this a little too long..."

Dean shrugged as he got out of the car. "Guess I have,"

I sighed again and got out of the car, too. We met John at the trunk, where he was loading and cocking a shotgun. _That_ definitely made me a little nervous. "John, what good is a shotgun gonna do against a ghost? We're not gonna..." I stopped myself there. We weren't gonna hurt anyone, were we?

"It's full of rock salt," said John. "Won't kill a ghost - Or a person - but it'll repel a ghost for a while,"

"_Oh_," I hummed, incredibly relieved by that. "Well that's creative,"

John smiled and handed the shotgun to Dean. Then he turned back to me. "Don't suppose you ever properly learned to shoot?"

I shook my head and scoffed. "You think mom would let me near a gun? That's kinda the whole reason the divorce happened,"

John sighed. "Yeah, I know," Then he directed his words to his son. "Dean, you stay with her. Don't let her outta your sight,"

"Got it," said Dean, and I could tell that he was going to take this assignment seriously. But not because his father asked him to, but because he didn't want anything to happen to me. Dean had always had that protective streak.

Especially when it came to me.

John checked over another shotgun, then pulled two bags out of the car. One was handed to Dean, the other he slung over his shoulder. He grabbed the other shotgun, and closed the trunk. "Alright. Let's do this,"

I followed behind John and Dean as we approached the back of the museum. It was locked down with a padlock, which John quickly got to work on. I resisted the urge to comment about how he knew to pick locks.

Now wasn't the time for that sorta thing. This job was underway, and I realized that it could turn nasty at any given moment. There were guards inside that museum. Guards that would maybe not hesitate to shoot us.

Especially since Dean and John were armed. And well. _Technically_ so was I. John and Dean didn't know it, but I never went anywhere without two knives; A small silver one, and a bigger one made of pure iron.

It was the iron one that would help today. One of the things I'd remembered was that ghosts are also repelled by iron, thus leading me to buy that knife years prior.

I was nervous as John picked the lock, but he and Dean were steady. Cautious and prepared and on edge, but steady. They'd done this before and they had no nerves about it.

Soon enough, John had the door open, and we were slipping into the back of the museum, into where they loaded and unloaded bigger exhibits. Like before, the weight and air of a ghost hit me as soon as we walked in. But this time it was stronger.

I swallowed hard. "It's definitely back here somewhere..." I whispered.

"Good," said John. "Try to hunt it down. I'm gonna start spreading salt around the place, try to corner this thing,"

I headed to Dean's side as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Right so. We've got a knife from like. Eighteen-forty-two. Was used to torture people. Should be, ah... Somewhere over there..."

I let Dean take the lead as we hunted down this knife. "So... This really doesn't bother you?"

"No_p_e," Dean replied, popping the 'p'. "Done this practically my whole life, remember?"

I sighed. "_Yeah_..."

I couldn't help but think that I _should've been there_. That I was meant to have been with them that whole time. I'd always felt like who I was wasn't who I was meant to be. I'd hated myself for a long time. And now that I was here with Dean, I was realizing why; I had no backbone. I couldn't face things with dignity.

And it wasn't who I wanted to be. So I took a deep breath, and tried to steel myself. This was the life I should have been living. And even if I only got to live it this once, I was going to do it right.

So I took the list from Dean, and picked up my pace.

"Hey, hey!" Dean protested in a hushed voice. "You're supposed to stick with me, remember?"

"Then don't fall behind," I replied, trying to stay steady like him. But I felt like my voice shook a little too much for that. If he noticed, Dean didn't say anything, and I didn't notice if he noticed.

I shivered as we got closer to where our objective was. "It's closer..." I hummed.

"Hey, this one might be easy..." Dean replied. "Sometimes we spend all night in places like this,"

I scoffed slightly. "Slumber party, anyone?"

Dean chuckled. "Not really,"

I looked over at a designation of items, then looked back at our list. "It's over there,"

We crossed the room to locate the knife amongst the other items in the case. "There it is..." hummed Dean, pointing to a long, rusty dagger in the corner.

I eyed the knife as Dean started picking the lock to the case. Something wasn't right... "No, wait..."

Dean stopped and looked over at me. "What?"

"I don't sense anything coming from that..." I replied. "It's not that knife..."

Dean stared at me for a moment. "Is it anything in this case?"

I shook my head. "No,"

"But you said it was over here," said Dean.

"I did," I sighed. "And it is... It's just... Not _here_,"

Dean withdrew his lockpick, and stood back up. "Right. Okay, lead the way,"

I swallowed hard. I wasn't exactly sure which was the right way, when the ghost's 'scent' was all over the place. I wasn't quite close enough to whatever the object was.

So I turned and headed back towards where I'd first caught the stronger feel of a ghost. Dean followed close behind. I stopped where I'd picked up the trail, and stood there.

I turned in a circle, trying to reach out with my senses to find this ghost. That was something I hadn't done in a long time. Up until then, I was letting the energies come to me. Only perceiving what was in my general range.

But now I was forcing my range outwards, trying to pinpoint this ghost. It made my head hurt to do, but I was determined to find this thing.

Soon enough, I caught wind of an even stronger energy, down in another room. I took off towards it. "This way,"

With Dean on my tail, I sprinted into another room. My head was swimming a bit from flexing my powers in ways I hadn't in years, but I wasn't going to let that stop me.

We stopped in the middle of the room, and I looked around. "It's here. It's _definitely_ here,"

Dean looked at the list in his hands. "None of dad's prospect items are in here..."

"Yeah, well. _It's here_. I know it's here," I said, still reaching and pulling, trying to pinpoint it's location. I was aware of my voice wobbling as I spoke, but I didn't care.

"Hey," said Dean firmly, grabbing my shoulder. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah... Just. Haven't used my powers like this in a long time..."

"Take it easy..." Dean hummed. "Don't need you-"

Before Dean could finish that sentence, there was a loud crashing and banging sound from behind us. We spun around to see that various pieces of various large exhibits had been flung across the room to block the doorway.

"Oh, shit!" Dean hissed, cocking his gun and preparing for the worst. "Alright, alright, where is it?!"

"I- I-" I was a bit panicked now, and I was getting too dizzy to keep focusing. "Shit..."

"Ashe!" Dean yelled, clearly alarmed. "Stay with me, alright!"

I took a loud, gasping breath. This was happening. The ghost was here, the time to exorcise it had come, and I was about to goddamn _pass out_.

_Awesome_.

"Trying," I said in response to Dean, my voice wobbling. "I think we pissed it off,"

"You think?" Dean hissed. "Can you feel where it is?"

I took a few deep breaths, and pushed with my senses. "It's definitely here, in this room..."

"Any idea what item?" Dean asked, turning in a circle to look for something, anything.

"Not yet," I replied breathily.

Dean sighed. "Alright... We'll go down the line, then. You stay close to me, and don't pass out,"

"Okay," I responded, shifting a bit closer to Dean. I wasn't sure if I actually was going to pass out. My head was aching, but I was alert. I was just scared out of my mind.

Dean and I perused the room slowly, and I kept my senses alert for anything that reeked of a ghost. It's aura was strong here, sickeningly so. But I couldn't yet pinpoint it to something. And it wasn't yet making itself known again...

Until we crossed to the other side of the room, that is.

We heard something slide against the floor, and then something was slamming into Dean with all the force of... I don't know, a rugby tackler? I shouted his name, and then spun around to assess any other potential threats.

It was here, now, not hiding anymore. Swirling around us like invisible fog. My breath caught, and my head took to pounding harder.

Something else flew across the room, barely missing me. I flinched away from it, stumbling and nearly falling.

"Ashe!" Dean yelled, currently in the process of trying to shove off the giant box that had been propelled into him.

"I'm okay!" I shouted back. I turned sharply in a circle, watching as things everywhere began to shake and fall and be thrown around the room. I pushed my senses out again, trying to pinpoint what was holding this ghost to this location. "C'mon... _C'mon_..." I hissed to myself.

My head started to pound harder, and something inside of me was throbbing, too. It was starting to become too much... Something wet started to drip down my lip, from my nose. I frantically wiped at it, to see that it was blood.

My breath was coming in nothing short of ragged gasps, now. But I finally pinpointed it. I could tell where it was.

"It's over here!" I shouted, rushing on numb legs to the location where I could now feel the ghost's energies tied down. More blood was dripping down my lip from my nose, but I ignored it. I also ignored the panic I felt from Dean; He'd seen the blood, too.

I rushed over to a series of boxes, and pointed to one with a faded label that couldn't exactly be read. But of the words that were still there, the one I could read was 'mummy'.

"It's remains!" I yelled to Dean, my voice not coming out as loud as I wanted it to. "This mummy!"

"Awesome!" Dean yelled back. "Okay, now just-"

Before Dean could even begin to give me any instructions, something from a nearby shelf flew off it, propelled at an impressive force.

It - Whatever it was, I didn't have time to identify it - struck me square in the head. I tumbled back into another wall of boxes, and hit the ground.

I gasped and sputtered, and tried to crawl back to my feet as I heard Dean screaming my name. But I just couldn't. I'd pulled too hard at something inside of me, and my body didn't want to cooperate anymore.

Everything faded into black, taking the pain along with it.

* * *

I'm not sure how long I was out. Could've been minutes, or hours for all that I knew. But when I came to again, I was sprawled out in the back of the Impala, the blood that had previously been gushing down my face gone.

What the hell had happened...?

I groaned and sat up, feeling the car in motion. "_Dean...?_"

"I'm here," came Dean's voice from the passenger's seat in front of me. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." I sighed. "Yeah, I'm good... You...?"

Dean nodded, looking softer than he had this entire time. "I'm good,"

I stared at him for a moment, trying to process all this. "How did... The ghost, did you?"

"Yeah, it's done for," said John. "Got there just in time,"

I gave a breathy little laugh of relief, then sighed in something like annoyance and disappointment. "Looks like I wasn't as much help as you thought I'd be,"

"Nonsense," John said. "We coulda been there forever trying to find that coffin without you,"

I sighed again. "Yeah, _but_..."

"Nope," Dean interjected. "Don't even go there. You did good,"

I hummed softly, not really sure if I believed that. Dean believed it, I could feel that. "But I-"

"Nope," Dean said again. "Don't even try. This was your first case, far as we're concerned. And you did good,"

I sighed silently through my nose this time. "Are all first cases this intense?"

Dean laughed. "You remember your actual first case? _My_ first case?"

"Yeah..." I mumbled. "Point taken..."

"It gets easier," said Dean.

I hummed, but said nothing. I wasn't sure if it _would_ get easier. Because I wasn't sure if this was going to be happening again... I wasn't sure if this ticket back home was open-ended. And I was too scared to ask.

"You think we need to take you to the hospital?" John asked after a moment of silence. "Dean says your nose was bleeding before the ghost hit you,"

"No, I'm fine..." I replied. "I just overestimated my abilities... I'm good now," And that wasn't a lie. I didn't feel any lasting damage, aside from being sort of sore where I'd been struck by the mystery object. I felt a little out of it still, but I was certain I'd be fine.

John nodded, and accepted that. "We'll take you home in the morning, then,"

I nodded, a little too out of it to argue with that right then. I straightened up in my seat and fumbled with the seat belt. I wanted to go back to sleep (If I'd even technically been _sleeping_ before), but I knew that after a hit to the head, maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

It was better to be safe than sorry, after all.

I pulled my phone from my pocket as soon as I was buckled in. By some miracle, it hadn't been damaged by me getting thrown around by the ghost.

Thank god for the company known as Samsung, yeah?

Upon unlocking my screen, I was greeted by various texts and missed calls from my mom. She wanted to know where I was and if I was coming home that night. And she was pissed that I wasn't answering her.

I sighed and locked my phone again, putting it back into the pocket it came from. I didn't have the energy to deal with her right then...

The drive back was then spent in silence, and no one said anything as we headed back into the motel. I sighed heavily as the door was closed behind us by John.

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked, grabbing my shoulder to make me stop and look at him. His grip was gentle, though.

"Yeah..." I replied. "Just... Tired. That was... That was really something..."

"Yeah," Dean replied, looking at me as if studying me.

"It uh..." I stopped to swallow and sigh. "It doesn't actually get less intense, does it?"

Dean made a face and shook his head. "Nah. You just get used to it,"

I sighed. "_Yeah_..."

Dean looked at me for a moment more, and I could tell that some interesting thoughts were brewing within him. But I was too tired to try analyzing them.

"Hey," Dean finally said. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

I looked up at him. "Dean, I'm fine... It's okay..."

Dean hummed. "Hmm, nope. You probably just had the most eventful day in the past seven years of your life. You need some rest. Y'know what, I don't care if you lay there and watch shitty TV. Just get in the damn bed and relax,"

I stared at Dean for a moment more, before scoffing at him and starting to pull my shoes off. "Fine, fine. If it'll make you happy,"

"Very much so," Dean replied.

I sighed and hopped into the bed, leaning back against the pillows and headboard. Dean handed me the TV remote, and I started flipping through channels. He hovered there for a moment, a certain sort of feeling swirling through him.

One that no one had ever really felt in regards to me before...

But this was _Dean_. And somehow it didn't surprise me that he was feeling this way. He'd always been protective of the people he cared about.

And I felt lucky to be one of them.

After a moment, Dean started to walk away. But then I made a split second decision, and reached out to grab and tug on his sleeve. "Hey..."

"Hm?" was Dean's soft reply.

I moved over, and tugged Dean closer by his sleeve. "C'mere... You could use a rest, too..."

He stared at me for a moment, like he'd once again forgotten that I could sense his emotions. Then he laughed nervously. "I really forgot how much of a pain in the ass that is,"

I smiled at him as he took off his shoes and climbed into the bed with me. Across the room, John said nothing, despite watching us.

I leaned onto Dean's shoulder. He was warm and somehow still familiar. He wasn't physically the same person I'd known, but he didn't feel like a stranger, either. And while there were new layers to him, inside he was still the same Dean I'd known seven years ago.

Dean hesitated a moment, unsure about this whole situation. But then he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. "It's nice to have you back..." he hummed.

I was already starting to drift off to sleep again, but I heard him. "It's good to be back..."

And in that split second, in that one tired moment... _I made up my mind_.

* * *

The lyric to this chapter is from Don't Stop Believin' by Journey!


	4. Chapter Four

And here it is, right on schedule for once! The adventure officially begins here!

* * *

**4\. Most People Wouldn't Go Back To A Life They Left Seven Years Ago. Me? I Practically Ran Back.**

* * *

_Well I know what's right._

_I've got just one life._

_In a world that keeps on pushin' me around._

_But I'll stand my ground. And I won't back down._

* * *

_I had to say something_.

There was no way I _couldn't_. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't, and I doubted that Dean would, either.

He wanted me to stay just as much as_ I_ wanted to stay. He would be worried about me, and maybe he'd try to fight it just a little bit because of that fact, because he wasn't sure and he didn't want to be selfish.

But I wanted to stay with them, of that I was certain. I'd made up my mind.

It was the life I had been meant to live from the beginning. The one that I was raised into, even though I didn't know it at first. It was the life where my family was, and I wanted to go back to it.

So I had to say something, before we got on the road to take me home and this chance was gone.

I didn't know exactly how to phrase it, though, but I _had_ to find some words and say them, before John got the car going.

"Hey, guys...?" is what I settled on saying. I didn't know what I was going to say after that, but it was a start.

John turned around as he approached the driver's side door. "Hm?"

"Well, I... Last night I was thinking... _Actually_, I've been thinking ever since Dean showed up and asked for my help... And well... _I_..." I didn't really know how to ask this, and so I was stuttering like an idiot. Dean was now staring at me, looking both expectant and confused. He knew what I was about to say - Even though_ I _didn't know what I was about to say - but didn't want to get his hopes up believing that it was going to work out the way he wanted.

I took a deep breath, and decided to just go for broke and outright say it. "_I want to stay_,"

"Stay?" John echoed, cocking an eyebrow at me in question. He knew what I meant, but didn't think I was serious, didn't think I knew what I was asking.

"Yes. With you guys," I elaborated. "I want to join you... Yeah- _Yeah_, I know my performance yesterday was. Really bad _but_... This was supposed to be my life, and... And I never wanted to leave it... Most people don't get a second chance, and _damnit_, I'm taking this one!"

John and Dean both stared at me, unsure of what to say.

Then, Dean spoke, "Ashe... Are you sure about that? Are you sure you wanna just pack up and leave your mom?" despite his words, I felt that behind his calm logic, there was the undeniable desire to straight-up say _yes_ and never look back, and that only made my resolve stronger.

This was where I was meant to be.

"I can't stay with her forever," I said, though the thought of leaving home was daunting. "The time's gonna come where I've gotta make my own life. And I want _this one_. I want to be with you guys again, like we used to be,"

Dean leaned against the side of the car, studying me for any signs of uncertainty; His own desires aside, he didn't want me making a choice I'd regret. "You're absolutely sure? Even after what happened last night?"

"Maybe last night wouldn't have happened like it did if I'd been doing this my whole life... _I_... I've never felt right since the divorce... I've never felt like I was where I was meant to be, but... Being with you guys again... It's made me realize where it is I'm meant to be..." I almost mumbled. "And I know it's not gonna be easy, I know it's dangerous, but. It's what I want,"

Dean stared at me for a moment, then looked to John, his face both a question and a request; He wanted this, too.

John was feeling a number of things about this; Concern and uncertainty, mostly. And for a moment I was scared he'd say no. But then, slight understanding and resignation rose to the surface. After a moment, he spoke, "You really do wanna do this? You're gonna have to convince your mom,"

"No," I said. "I don't have to convince her of anything. She can't stop me anymore, that's why you guys came for my help to begin with. I can make this decision for myself,"

Both of them looked at me for another silent moment. Then John chuckled, "Damn, you're not the bratty kid we left seven years ago, are you?"

"Not by a long shot," I responded.

John chuckled and then opened the driver's side door. "Get in, then. You've got some packing to do,"

I couldn't help but grin like an idiot, and look over at Dean. He grinned back. There was still a bit of concern in him - Uncertainty - but there was nothing that could stamp down his enthusiasm and pride.

He was glad that I was coming along. He was glad to have another little part of his family back. I knew that Sam 'leaving' had sort of hit him hard, even if he didn't let it show. So having me back was like walking on Cloud 9 to him.

That just solidified my resolve even more. This was where I was meant to be. Nothing - Not even my mom - could stop me now.

Dean and I sang along to the radio as we drove back to my house. This time, John pulled the car up into the driveway. Because now it didn't matter if my mom saw that familiar Impala. She was going to know I was going with them.

"Want me to come with you?" asked Dean, leaning around the passenger's seat to look at me.

"If you want," I replied. "Nothing's stopping me, I promise you that. But if you wanna be moral support, I won't stop you,"

Dean nodded, and got out of the car. I followed suit, and he let me lead the way up to the door. I unlocked it with my trusty key, and we stepped inside. "Mom, I'm home! Can you uh, come here for a sec?"

There was a few moments of silence, before my mom emerged from her room to meet us in the living room. Her first comment was about Dean. "Who's this?"

I pursed my lips and took a silent, almost unnoticeable breath. "This is Dean," I replied.

My mom stared almost blankly, unsure what to do with her face. She knew that name. But she didn't want to assume that it was _Dean Winchester_. She didn't want to believe that this was happening. She gave me a look that told me I ought to elaborate.

"Yeah, mom," I said. "_Winchester_,"

My mom gaped at me for a moment, trying to reign her rage in. "And why in the name of every god is he here?"

"He needed my help with something," I replied, trying to sound firm and sure, but not confrontational. "And so I helped,"

"You were on a case?" my mom almost snapped. "You were _on a case?_"

"_Yeah_," I said, raising my voice slightly, defiance creeping into it despite my best efforts to not let it. "I'm an adult now, you don't get to tell me what to do,"

My mom scoffed. "Asher, you don't know what you're getting into-"

I cut her off there, "-I know plenty. I can decide if I want the Winchesters' in my life. I can decide if I wanna be a hunter. And I _do_. You _know_ I do. You know I never wanted to leave,"

"It was for your own good!" my mom snapped, not quite yelling but definitely not being any kind of civil. Which was sort of her specialty. "You have no idea - You really don't - what goes on out there!"

"It's not your decision to make!" I hissed back, my resolve to not let this become a screaming match beginning to dissipate. My mother's aggression never failed to do that to me. "Other people make this decision all the time, what makes me any different, huh?! _Nothing!_ I'm just like everyone else who makes this choice! They've got family, too! You're not special, mom. You don't get to tell me who to be,"

My mom glowered at me. "You are walking a fine line,"

"_No_," I said firmly. "I'm crossing it. I'm leaving, mom. I'm going with Dean and John,"

"Excuse me?" my mom hissed. "You're _what now?_"

I stared her down for a moment. "I'm going with Dean and John," I said again, punctuating my words purposefully.

My mom was silent for a moment. Then she turned to look at Dean, as if this whole thing was his fault. "You've got a lot of nerve..."

"Hey, I didn't do nothing to make her decide a damn thing," said Dean. He wasn't aggressive about it, but he also wouldn't take my mom's rage sitting down. "This is all her,"

"And why won't you tell her that it's a bad idea?" my mom demanded.

"Because it's not my choice to make," Dean replied.

My mom scoffed in anger. Her next words were directed towards me again. "You're making a huge mistake,"

"No. _No_, I'm not," I replied. And then I grabbed Dean's wrist, and tugged him off towards my room.

It was going to be hard, I knew it. Leaving behind everything I'd known for the past seven years. Leaving behind my pissed and resentful mother.

But I had to. I had to if I wanted to go where I wanted to be in life. And I wanted to help people. I wanted to be with my best friend. I wanted to be _me_. Who I knew I was _meant_ to be.

Despite the fact that nothing would waive me and I was solid in my convictions, my eyes were wet by the time we got to my room. That didn't surprise me. Arguments and negative emotions have always made me cry.

I wiped at my eyes and headed for my closet. Dean's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Hey..." he said softly. "You alright?"

"Yeah..." I sniffled quietly. "You know me. I don't do yelling very well..."

Dean nodded, and let me go. I headed to my closet and pulled out a few bags. Into one, I started putting clothes. Into the other, went items of a more personal nature; My laptop and tablet, my phone charger, my sketchbooks and pencils, etc. etc.

I scoured my room for everything I might want, knowing that I wouldn't be coming back here for a very long time. I wasn't sure when I'd be coming back here at all, really.

And that was a scary thought. Leaving home on such short notice... It was a daunting idea. But again, I had to do it. There was a place I wanted to be, and this wasn't it.

It took a while, of digging through my things to find everything I wanted. But soon enough, I had two bags and my purse packed, and I was ready to go. I looked at Dean, and nodded.

Dean studied me for a moment. Then, "You sure that this-"

"_Yes_," I said, heading him off at the pass. "This is what I wanna do, Dean. I'm scared, but. _This-"_ I motioned around me. "-Isn't where I wanna be... _Who_ I wanna be..."

He studied me another moment longer. Then he nodded. "Alright,"

I nodded back, and headed out of my room, taking one long, last look at it. I then headed back to the living room with Dean on my heels. I could hear my mom angrily washing dishes in the kitchen. And I could feel her concern, her rage, her betrayal.

But that wasn't going to stop me. She thought she could tell me who to be, and that wasn't going to fly anymore. I had to branch out, had to be my own person.

And I wanted to be a hunter. I wanted to be with the family I'd chosen.

I set my bags by the door, and then headed into the kitchen. "Mom-"

"_What?_" mom snapped. She was rather pissed at me, and likely would be for a while.

"I'm not doing this to spite you or piss you off," I said, feeling like that had to be clarified before I left. "I'm doing this for me. For who I wanna be,"

"Fine then," said my mom. "Don't blame me when it all goes south,"

I pursed my lips. My mom was not open to reason right then. So I turned and left the kitchen. "I'll call you!" I yelled behind me.

There was no response.

I nodded to Dean again, picked up my bags, and we headed out the door. I locked it behind me, and we headed back to the Impala.

John popped the trunk, and I loaded my clothes bag into it. I kept my other stuff at hand, and got into the car.

"So," said John, turning the key to start the car again. We'd been gone over an hour, and I felt sort of bad making him wait that long. "How'd it go?"

"She's... Pissed beyond belief," I sighed. Those were the only words I had to describe it.

John hummed and nodded. He remembered what my mom is like when she's pissed. "Not surprising,"

"She'll cool down eventually," I said. "...I hope,"

"And you think she'll understand?" asked John.

"Understand that I'm doing this for me and not to spite her? I dunno," I replied. "But she'll understand that this is what I want. She might never understand my loyalty to you guys, but... That's not my problem. She doesn't get to decide for me anymore..."

In the passenger's seat, I could _feel_ Dean smiling. He was proud of me. And he was so damn glad that I was along for the ride now. "It'll all work out," he said. "Family is family, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

John pulled out of the driveway, and I gave the only home I'd known for seven years one last look. There was fear in me, sure. Fear of _so many_ things. And maybe there were going to be a lot of unforeseen hardships coming to me. But there was also pride, bravery, and a sense of new beginning and belonging.

Maybe I was leaving my physical home behind, but I'd never felt like I belonged somewhere more than I did right then.

* * *

I was woken up bright and early by the_ infernal _sound of my phone ringing.

_Actually_, it wasn't bright and early. It was five AM and the sun hadn't even risen above the horizon, yet.

And someone was calling me.

I groaned and fished my phone out from under my pillow. My bleary eyes read the caller ID, and I immediately answered it, regardless of how tired and incoherent I was.

I could _never_ actively let Sam go to voicemail, I'd never forgive myself for that.

"'Ey..." I mumbled softly, as I pulled myself out of bed and slipped out of the hotel room. For once, John was asleep, and I didn't want to wake either him nor Dean.

I was aware of Dean stirring behind me as I got up, but he didn't try to follow or call out to me. I wasn't sure if he was even entirely awake to realize what I was doing.

"Hey," was Sam's reply. Followed by, "...Did I wake you?"

"Yeh..." I yawned. "'S okay, though..."

"I can let you get back to sleep, if you want," Sam offered. "I'm just cramming for a test and losing my mind. Thought using you as a rubber duck might help,"

I laughed tiredly. "I don't mind, Sammy, go ahead,"

Sam hummed. "How 'bout first you tell me why you're actually _asleep_ at five in the morning?"

"Hmmm," I wordlessly groaned. I had no idea how to tell Sam this... I'd been thinking about it for two days, now. How was Sam going to react to me going back to hunting? With his brother and father, no less.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, and I didn't have to be in the same room as him to notice his concern.

"Yeah, Sammy, yeah, I'm fine," I replied. My intention had not been to concern him. "I just... I made a really big decision... About where I'm taking my life..."

There was a brief silence from Sam, and I could imagine the look on his face as he tried to decipher that. "And what's that?"

"I uh... I don't know how you're gonna feel about this, but..." I trailed off for just a moment, before finding my voice again and biting the bullet. "I... I got back into hunting..."

There was a slightly longer moment of silence then, and I heard Sam shift around. His voice was a bit hushed when he finally spoke again, but his concern still rang clear. "You got back into hunting...?"

"Yeah..." I sighed. "Dean and your dad showed up at my door needing some psychic backup and... I just kinda. Realized what I'd been missing,"

"So you're with them?" Sam asked.

"Yep," I replied. "Hit the road with them two days ago,"

I heard Sam sigh softly. It was a sound of relief. "I'm glad you're not out there alone,"

I almost laughed. "Yeah. Me, too,"

Another moment passed, before, "So... What does your mom think of this?"

"She's uh..." I stopped a moment. "_Eh,_ she's... Pissed beyond all belief," that was still the only way I could describe it. "At me, at Dean, at the world, probably,"

"Not taking it well, huh?" Sam asked, just a hint of laughter in his voice.

I inhaled sharply. "_Noooo_. Not at all. We got into a fight before I left and. Haven't spoken since..."

"Are you gonna call her?" Sam questioned. "I know I'm not the best person to take family advice from, but..."

"Yeah, no, it's fine, Sammy," I said. "You know you're the only person allowed to give me advice,"

Sam chuckled. "And I take that responsibility seriously. _So_. You do plan to call her, right? Eventually?"

I sighed. "Yeah. _Eventually_. Once she calms down and I get settled into this whole thing so I can tell her for sure I don't regret anything,"

Sam hummed. "How's it going so far?"

"Decently," I replied. "Got lost somewhere on the two-oh-five because Dean was driving and wouldn't listen to instructions, but _y'know_. Nothing new there. I remember when John taught him to drive, he was no better at following instructions then,"

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah, I remember that too,"

I laughed in turn, remembering how Dean had taken us all the way downtown once because he was convinced he could navigate the streets without his father's help, despite John sitting shotgun and repeatedly telling him he was going the wrong way. "Yeah, Dean was always stubborn like that. But yeah, things are going pretty well. Hotels aren't too bad so far, and sharing a bed with Dean isn't anything new to me. I'd tell you about the case we're working, but. You don't wanna hear about that, do you?"

"I'll listen if you want me to," said Sam, his voice soft like it always was when he spoke to me.

I snorted softly. Sam was always willing to do literally anything for me. But I knew that he'd left for a reason, and I didn't want to drag him back, even in thought. "I've always had special permissions, haven't I? But no, I won't bore or worry you with the gruesome details. Maybe once it's over,"

Sam could sense my bullshit from a mile away. "Ashe. If you need to talk about it with someone, I don't mind,"

"I know, Sammy," I almost laughed. "But I'm okay. You don't have to worry about it. If I think a case will interest you, I promise I'll tell you,"

"Or if a case is driving you up a wall and you need help?" Sam added.

"Yeah," I replied, unable to help the smile on my face. Sam was the absolute best, if you asked me. The most caring person I'd ever met. He and I had always been 'attached at the hip' as Dean always said. "But for now, don't sweat it, Sammy. All you need to worry about is that exam. Of which you needed me to rubber duck for you?"

Sam chuckled, and I could imagine the way he was smiling. "Yeah. You up for it?"

"_Always_," I replied.

* * *

"So do you guys do _this _often?" I asked, referring to the fact that John was off making fake US Marshall's IDs for us, while Dean and I sat at a coffee shop and had a ridiculous amount of cookies (And coffee, in Dean's case).

"Eeehhh, kinda," Dean replied. "Sometimes, this job requires you to get down and dirty. Get information however you can,"

I scoffed. "Yeah, I learned that with the museum,"

Dean threw an arm around my shoulders. "Just think of it like going undercover,"

I hummed contemplatively. "_Y'know_... I think maybe I can do that,"

Dean grinned. "_See_, there ya go,"

I laughed slightly. I'd been with Dean and John for about two weeks now. And I felt like I was still in the adjustment period of the whole thing. I hadn't quite learned the ropes yet. And I was still getting used to the whole 'spending eighty percent of my day in a car' thing.

But it wasn't as bad as I felt my mom thought it would be. I was enjoying being with John and Dean, even if John sometimes pissed me off by withholding information and expecting us to follow him without question. I had hope that we'd work that one out, one on one, adult to adult.

So, so far, I was enjoying this whole 'being a hunter' thing. We'd taken on two cases since I joined, and this was our third. We weren't quite sure what we were dealing with yet, and John decided that the best way to get more information was to pose as cops.

Which, while it felt really underhanded, made sense to me. People will tell cops almost anything, if they've got nothing to hide. Especially if they're scared.

This week's case had something to do with mangled legs being found all over a small quadrant of New York.

Now, lemme digress for point-five seconds and say that New York is beautiful. It's not the taxi cab riddled modern dump full of druggies that TV likes to portray it as. Dean and I were conspiring to go to a casino after this case was done.

But now, let's get back to those legs, shall we? Yeah, _legs_. Mangled legs in New York. Kinda fits the dirty way that media portrays NY, doesn't it?

And somewhere in the back of my head, I was thinking about what if this was a serial killer, and not some monster. But John and Dean had been doing this for a long time. And they saw something here.

And well, even if it was a serial killer, taking care of it would be saving people. So I wasn't opposed to looking into it.

I liked this part of the job. The part where we were detectives or investigators. I like getting to the bottom of a mystery. There's a reason I like to watch crime shows.

What I was still getting used to was the whole 'killing/exorcising' thing. That was where things got intense, and I wasn't quite up to speed with that part.

But I was getting there, slowly but surely. I was determined to do this job and do it right. And Dean was a patient and good teacher. John ever so slightly less so, but he was doing his best. After all, he'd taught Dean.

Dean sipped on his third cup of coffee. "So uh... Been meaning to ask and I keep forgetting, but uh. _The piercings?_"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "What about them?"

"Well, when'd you get 'em? How many you got?" Dean asked.

"Got the first one when I was fourteen," I replied. "Been collecting 'em ever since. Got five right now. Used to be six, had my eyebrow done. But it kinda decided it didn't like me,"

At that moment, the five piercings I had were snakebites, both ear lobes, and one in the cartilage of my left ear. There was a slight scar over my left eyebrow, where that piercing had once been.

Dean hummed. "Damn, fourteen. Your mom let you do that?"

"I begged her until she said yes," I replied with a laugh. "I think she expected me to hate it - Y'know, needle phobia and all - but uh. Instead I fell in love,"

Dean chuckled and gave me a look of mock flirtation. "So, no hidden ones underneath those clothes?"

I scoffed softly and gave Dean an unimpressed look. It hadn't taken him long to start with this mild, friendly flirting. And honestly, I didn't mind. It was our form of banter, we'd learned. "_Dean_..."

Dean gave me a smarmy look. "What? Can't be curious?"

I laughed and slapped his arm. "What about you? No tats, no piercings? Guy like you _hardly_ seems vanilla,"

Dean scoffed. "Pfftt, please. I'm anything but vanilla. But nah. Haven't felt the need,"

"Fair enough," I replied. "Ever dyed your hair?"

"Nope," Dean replied. "Clearly you have, though,"

I snorted out a laugh. He was referring to the fact that my normally dark hair was currently bleached blonde. It was also cut boyishly short, only an inch, maybe two, longer than Dean's. But it was miles fluffier. "Indeed I have,"

"Any color you haven't done?" Dean questioned.

I hummed as I thought about it. "Red,"

"Red, huh?" Dean questioned. "Ever gonna do it?"

"I might," I hummed. "Not sure if I wanna stain everything red and look like a murderer though..."

Dean laughed. "Are you really concerned about that?"

I shrugged and pulled a face. "_Maybe_,"

Dean snickered and sipped his coffee. We'd learned right off the bat that we had opposing tastes when it came to that sort of thing. I like tea. Dean likes black coffee. He'd playfully ridiculed me about not liking coffee when I'd first told him.

"But you used to drink your dad's cold coffee in the morning," Dean had argued.

"That was then, this is now," I had countered. To which he had given a huge dramatic scoff.

We'd stopped mock arguing about it by now, though. The joke had gotten old and we'd found new things to tease each other over.

Or unanimously bond over, in the case of both our addictions to greasy food.

A few moments later, John sauntered into the coffee shop, and meandered over to us.

"All done?" asked Dean, nonchalantly sipping on his coffee still.

"All done," John confirmed.

And so, Dean and I stood up, and followed John back out to the car. Now, the real investigation was to begin, I assumed.

We piled into the car, and John handed Dean and I the fake IDs he'd been working on. I turned mine over in my hands. "_Damn_, John. Where'd you learn to do this?"

John hummed, but didn't say anything. Just another thing he wasn't willing to share. But I decided to let it go. He wasn't used to having me around yet. He hadn't realized that I wasn't like Dean, just yet.

So I didn't say anything to John's lack of an answer. I just set the ID in the seat next to me, and buckled up.

We'd already been dressed nice, per John's request, and now that we had these fake IDs, we were free and clear to start prodding around at whatever we wanted.

I wasn't sure how well I was going to do at this 'pretending to be a cop' thing. But I'd seen enough cop shows, something I'd sort of been relying on the past three weeks. So I had to believe that I could manage this.

Besides, John and Dean were likely going to take the lead. All I had to do was watch them and hopefully learn from them.

I didn't really remember this being part of the hunting life. I never recalled my dad doing stuff like this. It sort of felt like an occupational surprise or something. Something that I hadn't been expecting, but wasn't entirely against.

There had been a lot of moment like that, actually. Where we'd had to do something I'd never expected was part of hunting. Like dumpster diving.

It wasn't the way I'd thought it was when I was a kid. It wasn't the glamorous tracking down of evil that I'd imagined. It wasn't the heroic, action-packed adventure I'd daydreamed about as a child.

It felt a little more like being a really low-key criminal. Mixed with camping, road tripping, and a little bit of normal day job bullshit.

Definitely not what my childhood memories had expected, but it wasn't bad. It wasn't a disappointment. In fact, it was somehow better. Was somehow so much more fun when most of my time was spent teasing Dean and googling things while eating leftover french fries at two AM.

But it also challenged me, still. I had to step out of my comfort zone into my zone of social anxiety. I had to face my fears and learn how to put myself 'out there'. I also got to flex my psychic powers again, something I'd hadn't truly been able to do in years, due to there being no reason to.

It left me feeling drained sometimes, but I was slowly adapting to this. What felt like a grueling, anxiety-inducing task two weeks prior was starting to look a little bit more normal to me, now. I was slowly growing into someone a bit more like who I knew I was supposed to be.

Maybe the hunting life hadn't been what I expected, but... It was somehow _exactly_ what I needed.

* * *

The lyric for this chapter is from I Won't Back Down, by Tom Petty.


End file.
